


Letters From The Sky

by perfectly_comfortable



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Erotica, F/M, Romance, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectly_comfortable/pseuds/perfectly_comfortable
Summary: After failing to graduate Quantico, Liz retreats to Paris. There, she develops a new pastime and encounters a charming stranger. A passionate liaison unfolds and, together, they revive a lost means of expression.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 30
Kudos: 106





	1. Retreat (Prologue)

The jolt of stopping and cranking the handbrake brought Liz back to reality. She sat in her car, trying not to look at the envelope she had discarded onto her passenger seat. Liz’s ears ached, as she gripped the steering wheel, hearing the voices of her superiors echo from the letter inside:

_“...rash decision-making…”_

_“...errors in judgement…”_

_“...gifted psychologist...however, lacking adequate morality for field work.”_

_“...overall, an aptitude unbefitting of Special Agent status…”_

She spat out a breath as she forced the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, abandoning the damning document. Slamming the door shut, Liz suddenly remembered where she had been driving to. At her father’s house, Sam Milhoan awaited to hear the “good news” that his little girl was the new hot-shot Special Agent at the FBI. The realisation that she was delivering anything but became too much and she slumped back against the car, burying her face in her hands. As she sobbed, brokedly, into her palms, the thought of driving away crossed her mind but she knew she couldn’t be alone. Not today.

After pulling herself together, Liz hoisted herself up the path. The pit in her stomach grew and her hands shook, nervously, as she retrieved her keys. They rattled and jangled against the lock and she went inside. Sound became muted in the low-lit hallway, like she was underwater. Then, she heard his heartened call.

“Butterball, is that you?!”

Liz’s heart stopped. She tried desperately to hold it all in. Until he appeared in the doorway. His fair, graying hair and still wearing his dark, leather jacket. He flashed her that sweet, hopeful smile. The one that, all her life, had brought her so much reassurance and comfort - finally broke her.

“I tried.” Liz managed before crumbling.

Sam’s face fell as she burst into tears. Hiding her face, again, she heard him approach and he embraced her.

“Oh, my little girl.” he murmured, swaying her in his support.

“I worked so hard!” she cried into his chest.

“I know you did. Those stiffs don’t know what they’re missing.”

*

The next night, they sat together at the dinner table and Liz jabbed, aimlessly, at her noodles with the wooden chopsticks. Sam had ordered Chinese in an effort to cheer her up but she was still fighting to work up an appetite. Liz set her virtually uneaten box of takeout on the tabletop which caught Sam’s attention. His eyes filled with understanding and he looked across at her with a half-hearted smile. She weakly mirrored his attempt to lift her spirits before bowing her head.

“Oh, Butterball. I wish you’d eat something.” Sam sighed.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I just don’t feel hungry.”

Liz had shut herself away in her old room, torturing herself with thoughts of failure.

“I know you’re hurting, honey, but you can’t dwell on the past.” Sam imparted. “You can’t let ‘em beat you down, you gotta get back in the race.”

“I don’t want to wait another year.” Liz told him, shaking her head in defeat.

“Well, all right, it’s not the end of the world.” he tried reassuring her. “What about New York?”

“I can’t go back there.” Liz’s stomach turned at the mention of it. She had spent the last six years working as a Profiler for the Mobile Psych Unit. In the last year, she had grown restless and had come to resent the toxic environment. “I wanted to be an Agent to catch these guys. Not be in the background while other people took credit for my work. Besides, I can’t show my face there, again, knowing they all hate me.”

Liz had worked up a ruthless reputation among that team, earning her the nickname; ‘Sir’. She had grown tired of their sideway glances and had heard whispers that they also referred to her by another, rather unsavoury, moniker.

“That’s just because they know you're smarter than they are.” Sam reached out, shaking her shoulder.

Liz looked up at him to see that encouraging smile and her heart melted. She couldn’t help but smile back as her eyes glistened, proudly.

“There’s my girl.” he recognized.

Liz began to re-emerge and she sat up to retrieve her noodles.

“What would I do without you?” she beamed, happily.

“Don’t let me take all the credit.” he pointed his chopsticks at her. “I ain’t the one with a psychology degree.”

“No, you’re trouble.” she smirked and they chuckled together as they tucked into their meal.

“So, what are you gonna do now?” he started to motivate her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Liz exhaled. “Maybe, I’ll go back to doing the seminars. Start lecturing full-time.”

“What about the Bureau?”

Liz scrunched her face and shook her head.

“Will they let you just leave?” Sam asked.

“I’ve done more than my three years.” Liz confirmed. “I can draft my resignation, this week.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Butterball.”

“Don’t be. Perhaps, this is just the universe telling me that I was meant to be someplace else.”

“That’s the spirit.” he commended, softly, trading her new enthusiasm.

She watched him and could tell he had, suddenly, slipped into a deep thought.

“Hey!” he, finally, popped before standing from his chair and practically running out of the room.

“What?” Liz looked after him, confused, almost overwhelmed by this high energy. “ _What?!_ ”

She could hear him sliding open the drawer of the buffet cabinet, out in the hallway. While he shuffled through the contents inside, Liz waited for him to reappear. He came back carrying a small, plain white envelope.

“I was gonna give you this on your birthday but, I figure, what the hell.”

Taking the gift from him, and unfurling it as he resumed his seat, she discovered travel package documents and an airline ticket to Paris. Her jaw dropped and she darted back and forth between him and what she held in her hands.

“Wh-wh-” she stammered.

“Surprise!”

Liz took a moment to absorb this. Until, she came to realize something and zoned in on him.

“Where did you get the money for this?” Liz questioned, ominously.

Sam averted his eyes. His silence only told Liz what she already suspected.

“You promised me you were gonna stop.” she continued, raising her brow in judgement.

It was no secret between them that Sam was a grifter, someone who scammed people out of their hard-earned cash.

“It was just one time.” he confessed, shamefully.

Liz knew he regretted it and, as disappointed as she was, she couldn’t stay mad at him. “If you needed money, you should have come to me.”

“I know.” Sam shrugged. “But how could I surprise you with your own money?”

“I would rather that than you risking getting in trouble again.” she scorned and, playfully, hit him over the head with the envelope.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

She eyed him, scathingly, once more before returning to her present.

“Do you like it?” he probed, meekly.

“Despite how you came by it...I love it. Thanks, Dad.” she grinned. “What’s done is done and, like you said, what the hell. I’m going to Paris!” Liz cheered, excitedly, flinging her arms in the air.

As they celebrated the rest of the night, Liz was grateful for the one person she could always rely on to make things better. Twenty-four hours ago, her life looked so uncertain. Now, she looked forward in a new light and promised to embrace whatever the future held.


	2. The Charming Stranger

It had been two days since Liz waved goodbye to Sam, at the airport, and landed in Paris.

After enjoying the magnificent sights, she decided to spend her remaining time soaking up the culture and to start thinking about her future. It would only be five more days and she didn’t want to spend them feeling like a typical tourist. Liz had set herself up in a lovely hotel, in the Le Marais district, on Rue Caffarelli. Her room was more like a chic apartment than a hotel, with rustic decor and a kitchenette. The jewel of this place, however, were the books that lined almost every wall like a library, turning her retreat into a sanctuary.

The mid-morning light glowed through the voile curtains as she rose from the king-sized bed and prepared for the day. After freshening up, Liz looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror to remind herself of her renewal. Since her departure from the Bureau, she had shed her girlish locks for a cleaner cut that sat on her shoulders and her warm tones had been recoloured a deeper brown. A look that would seem simple to most but translated elegantly in Paris.

Liz stepped out into the kitchenette and brewed herself a mug of tea. Cradling the warm porcelain in her hands, she wandered the bookshelves - a wealth of knowledge in the form of poetry, fiction, and diaries. A library of all shapes and sizes that former guests had left behind or exchanged. Between sips, she ran her fingertips across the spines searching for an answer, for something, someone, to reach out and grab her. Until, finally, a name caught her eye; Anaïs Nin.

_A striking name,_ she thought. Liz pulled the paperback from the shelf and studied it. On its cover was a dark-haired woman, draped in red, and clearly exposed but kaleidoskoped by ornate glass. The book was titled; ‘Delta of Venus’ and it’s blurb spoke of exploration and female empowerment from the male domain through erotic imagination.

Liz’s eyebrows raised in intrigue and she learned, from the foreword, that this vibrant essayist was born and lived in Paris. Even spending time in America in her young and later life. That she went on to teach in Universities there after her distinguished career. Liz couldn’t help but find her story somewhat relatable as she descended onto the sofa and began reading this woman's impassioned prose. Inside, she indeed discovered a cascade of sexual encounters that shocked and exhilarated her. Tales with spices of fear, jealousy, fantasies, and romance.

After an enthralling few hours, Liz’s stomach began to growl as she realised she hadn’t eaten yet. The early-afternoon sunlight had grown brighter, shining into the room, and Liz decided to head out and savour the beautiful day.

It was mild. A bright but none too warm day. So, Liz decided on a light, navy blazer over an indigo tee that she thought brought out her eyes. Wearing dark pants and ankle boots with a shoulder bag containing her newest literary venture, she bustled down to the lobby.

“ _Bonne journée!_ ” the Concierge smiled from behind his desk.

“ _Bonne journée._ ” Liz reflected back at him. “ _Merci beaucoup!_ ”

She stepped through the decorative, blue doors and onto the street. Looking around, she headed west along Rue de Bretagne until she reached a crossroads that led in every direction. Le Marais was a fashionable neighbourhood filled with boutiques, stores, and café’s. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she turned south down the quieter Rue de Turenne until she happened upon a stylish, grey storefront on the corner of Rue de Foin. A bakery whose canopies read; Le Moulin de Rosa.

Liz was drawn inside by the enticing scent of bread and pastries that were freshly displayed within glass cabinets.

“ _Bonjour, mademoiselle!_ ” the young woman behind the counter greeted, uniformed in white’s.

“ _Bonjour._ ” Liz returned, as she marvelled at the selection.

“ _Comment puis-je vous aider?_ ”

“Uh-” Liz panicked as her mother tongue betrayed her. “I’m sorry. English?”

“ _Anglaise?_ Of course!”

“I’m sorry.” Liz apologised, again, embarrassed. “I don’t know much French besides the basics.”

“Not to wo _rr_ y.” the baker brushed off, putting Liz at ease. “American, ah?”

“Yes.” Liz confirmed.

“What brings you to Paris?”

“I’m taking a personal vacation.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“Yeah, I’m at a new place in my life.” Liz told her, positively. “I came hoping to discover where to go next.”

The young woman opened her arms, proudly. “No be _dd_ er place to do it.”

“I hope so.” Liz smiled.

“So, what would you like?”

“Wow-” Liz wondered as she comprehended her choices.

“We have our pastries. Our _croissant_ , eclairs, _pain au chocolat_ , _pain aux raisins_.” The lady pointed out, kindly, in her strong French accent. “And over here, our sweets. _Macarons_ , meringue, raspbe _rr_ y eclair, and our bestselle _rr_ ; the lemon tart.”

“They’re beautiful.” Liz complimented.

“ _Merci!_ ”

“Well, I haven’t eaten yet. So, may I have just a few croissants?”

“ _Absolument_. Butter? Jam? Our raspbe _rr_ y is a favourite.” she recommended.

“Then, raspberry it is.” Liz accepted. “And, uh, a hot chocolate?”

“ _Oui_.”

After Liz paid for her brunch, her hostess politely offered to bring it to her as she took a table in the small seating area. It was a small, quaint alcove with oak-wood floors, white walls, and furniture that matched the exterior. The bottom half of the windows were blacked out from the outside so the indoors were lit by bright, LED ceiling lights. Liz sat in the first corner, against the left-hand wall, but still with a view out the storefront window.

The young, baker lady appeared with Liz’s raspberry croissants and hot chocolate. “ _Et voilà!_ ”

“ _Merci beaucoup._ ” Liz thanked, courteously. 

“ _Bon appétit._ ” the apron-adorned woman waited and glided back around the corner.

Liz raised the mug of hot chocolate to her lips and sipped. It was the best cup of cocoa she’d ever tasted.

“Wow.” she breathed, before setting it back down on the tabletop.

Rummaging through her shoulder bag, she retrieved her copy of Delta of Venus then dug into her croissants. The pastry was delicious, crunchy on the outside but soft and fluffy on the inside. It melted in her mouth and the vibrant, raspberry jam exploded with freshness.

“Oh, God.” she exhaled, again, almost in a moan under her breath.

As she continued to read Anaïs Nin’s collection of sensational visions, Liz began to ponder her own perception of people. Her own work with the psych unit aided in apprehending dozens of truly sordid individuals. A past filled with criminals and monsters. She looked out onto the sunny street, seeing the new faces, and thought about what stories the people of Paris could tell her. This was the City of Love, after all.

Liz noticed she wasn’t the only guest in the dining area. One more lone figure sat, adjacent to her, in the deepest corner, dressed in a steely three-piece broken by a white shirt and pearlescent tie. A fedora that matched his suit lay on the table before him.

Her head bowed into her book, she snuck a sideways glance at him. She saw that he too was reading. His legs crossed with a book tucked against his lap, a flurry of pages peeked from behind the lip of his table as he drank, etiquettely, from his cup. He was an older gentleman but very handsome, she thought. Sharply dressed and with short-shaved hair. Clearly a man of wealth and taste. It made her wonder what he was doing in such a quiet place, such as this. Perhaps he was a recluse, like her.

Liz finished her meal and, with her literature tucked under her arm, courteously returned her crockery to the front desk.

“Well? What do you think?” the hostess asked, hopefully.

“That was...heavenly.” Liz praised.

“Ah, _ç'est magnifique!_ ”

“Do you mind if I take some eclairs to go?”

“Of cou _rr_ se not.”

“And a lemon tart, as well, please?” Liz asked and the woman beamed. “Oh, I left my card in my bag.” she realised and dashed back to her table.

Suddenly, she collided into a strong, silver-dressed, frame.

“Oh!” she gasped, as a pair of books fell and fanned against the hardwood floor. “I’m so sorry!” Liz gushed, as she knelt down to retrieve them.

“That’s quite alright.” a deep, soothing voice said from above.

The man crouched down to her level to help. Liz looked up at him, books in-hand, surprised to hear another American accent in Paris.

His gaze followed hers like a mirror. Then, she saw his face, fair and soft. A humoured, simper flashed at the corner of his mouth before fading into parted lips. Liz was captured by his eyes and her own mouth broke open. They were dark but sweet, beneath the brim of his fedora. They stared back at her, clearly captivated. A few moments passed before they rose together, still locking eyes.

“Um-” Liz finally uttered, breaking from his hold to retrieve his fallen novel. She lifted it from under her own and recognised the name of its author. “Henry Miller.” she read aloud.

The writer of Liz’s own book had once been involved with him.

Liz slowly turned his book over, eyeing him again. His own sight had descended onto her reading and his brow raised, interested, before taking his back.

“Thank you.” he whispered, regarding her again.

“Your welcome.” Liz paid him. “And, um, my apologies, again. I-” she started.

“Not at all.” he refused, politely, lingering a second longer before swallowing his fixation. Then, he tipped his hat to her before whisking away.

Liz caught the scent of him in the presence he left in his wake. It was rich and intoxicating. By the time she turned around, this charming stranger was out the door. As she watched him go, she observed his brisk gait as he admired the street around him. His free arm swung out by his side and the shape of his hat angled upwards as he looked to the clear, blue sky. His very demeanor should have attracted the eyes of everyone on the sidewalk yet he blended effortlessly against the grey, paving stones. This eccentric character, who had struck her so, appeared a ghost to passing Parisians and, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

After standing stunned, Liz picked up her bag and went back to collect her waiting order.

“Hey.” she greeted her hostess, again. “Who was that?” she asked, curiously, after her mystery man.

“I don’t know.” the young woman shrugged, pouting her lips. “I’ve never seen him before...but handsome, _non?_ ”

“You could say that.” Liz smirked and took her bag of treats.

“No need to be coy.” the baker grinned. “This is Paris.”

Liz stifled a laugh. “Well, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be back.”

“ _Excellente! Au revoir, mademoiselle!_ ”

“ _Au revoir!_ ”

Liz left with this new experience and made her way back to her hotel.

*

Later that night, after treating herself to a few of her desserts from the bakery, Liz lay in bed still enthralled in her copy of Delta Of Venus. Waiting to fall asleep, surrounded by warm reading lamps, she couldn’t get the charming stranger she’d encountered out of her head.

His courtly manner, the devilish curl of his mouth, and those eyes. Those hypnotic eyes that had magnetised her.

It was as if in that moment, in that connection, he had stolen a part of her and taken it with him. Liz could still feel the strength of his chest against her. His expensive suit was clearly not the only powerful thing about him.

_For God’s sake, Liz, get your mind out of the gutter,_ she thought.

Liz snapped her book closed and tossed the bad influence onto the mantle behind her bed. She switched off the lights and settled down under the sheets.

_But his voice,_ she told herself.

He had only spoken a few words to her but there was something about his cavernous tone and rich intonation that was enough to burrow its way under her skin.

There in the dark, Liz closed her eyes and let herself imagine all the things he could say to her if they had more time. Her mind wandered as she felt pitch begin to take her.

All perception of time had fallen away before Liz heard three, gentle knocks. She dismissed it at first, telling herself her subconscious mind was playing tricks. Then, she heard it again. _Knock, knock, knock._

She rolled over in the bed and lit up her cell phone. It was three o’clock in the morning. _Knock, knock, knock_ , again coming from her door.

“What the hell?” she grumbled and flicked the lights back on.

Liz hoisted herself from the bed, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light, and approached the door. She turned the key, opened it, and froze at the sight in the hallway.

“ _You._ ” she breathed.

There he stood, his silvery jacket seemed to shimmer under the artificial light. He swept the fedora from his head, by the brim, revealing those dark eyes. Staring at her from under his brow, his gaze was heavy, filling the space between them with a weight that forced Liz backward into the room. He stepped forward with authority, following her, his arms swaying by his sides. Ignoring the door, he left it ajar as his presence pursued her inside.

“How did you find me?” Liz asked, nervously, staring at him intensely as the air in her chest grew tighter.

He said nothing but something inside told her that he had followed her. All he did was continue to stalk her deeper and deeper into the room until she felt the backs of her legs against the bed. He was now toe-to-toe with her at the edge. Looking down her body, his broad chest rose as he inhaled the sight of her in her shirt and night shorts. Then, his eyes lifted back to hers. Slowly and filled with hunger he stared at her like a hunter ready to devour its prey.

Liz's chest heaved with shallow, ragged breath. “Who are you? Tell me your name.” she begged, shakily.

All of sudden, he was at her ear. His voice echoed in her head. _“Does it matter? When I’m done, you won’t remember it.”_

Liz hissed a lungful of air and her eyelids fell as he dipped into her neck. Behind her eyes, what she felt next jolted her. Her eyes opened again to daylight and she snapped upright in the bed. Looking around, alert, she found her reading lamps still on and her door closed. Her copy of Delta Of Venus still lay on the sheets. Her heart racing, _it was only a dream._

She held her hand against her forehead, bewildered, trying to catch her breath. “No more sugar before bed.” she instructed aloud to herself. “And definitely no more of _you_.” she vowed, lifting the book and herself up off the mattress.

After a cool shower, Liz sat at the coffee table unable to escape her hallucination. With her fingertips against her lips, she stared at the notebook and pen on the wooden surface, trying to decide if she dared to do what she was thinking. Launching forward, she picked them up and put the ballpoint to the paper:

**Like a wolf in the night, he had stalked her. His mouth on her neck, he fed on her inhibitions and she surrendered to him. Tearing at his vest, she clawed it apart. This only heightened his bloodlust. She could see it in his eyes, wide and dark with desire for her. He lay her down and shed his coat. The Wolf hunted her, prowling over her atop the sheets. She couldn’t feel him, he never touched her. She only felt the heat of him against her, lighting a fire inside. Her body begged to be satisfied. Reaching out to him, he rose to meet her eyes, once more, and before he could take her; the rising sun stole him away.**

Scribbling the final word of her daring journal entry, she packed the notebook in her bag and left to meet the new day.

Dressed in skinny jeans, a floral blouse, and leather jacket, she waved today’s Concierge at the door and found herself following a familiar path. It was another bright afternoon as her feet carried her down Rue de Turenne, drawing her to Le Moulin de Rosa. She entered the bakery and was met by the same young woman from yesterday.

“You couldn’t stay away, uh?” she smiled.

“I couldn’t resist.”

The young baker beckoned her closer, covertly. Liz leaned in to hear her.

“Your handsome friend is back.” she spoke, softly.

Liz’s heart skipped a beat. She felt her eyes widen.

“He’s already arranged your order; raspberry croissant and a hot chocolate. Paid for it, too. You must have made an impression, ah?” she finished, with a suggestive look, and revolved to prepare Liz’s pastries.

Snapping out of her daze, Liz took a deep breath and turned towards the dining area, clutching the strap of her bag.

Standing at the threshold, she saw him there. Sitting in the same corner, his head still angled into a book, a fedora in front of him on the table. His palette was different today. The suit was a deep, navy blue and the vest was almost indigo. His matching tie was emblazoned with a silver diamond-shaped pattern and he wore brown, Italian leather shoes.

Liz swallowed her anxiety and edged toward him. When she reached his table, he looked at her and his face lit up. His cheeks sat high on his kind face as he beamed at her. This was a far cry from the mesmerised gentleman or the ravenous creature she had dreamed up, last night.

What surprised her the most were his eyes. They weren’t dark at all. In the light, they were a cloudy blue almost green.

After taking him in, she gestured. “May I?”

“Please.” he granted, opening his palm to the chair across from him.

Liz took a seat, alone with him, wondering about him, when their waiter brought Liz her brunch.

“Thank you, my dear.” the man chirruped.

“ _Mon plaisir._ ” she replied before departing.

Liz looked down at her plate and mug then leaned forward, folding her arms, and thought about what she was going to say.

Before she could get a word out, he took the liberty. “I hope you don’t mind.” he began to explain, as he folded his book away. “I couldn’t help but overhear your... _enthusiasm_ for the raspberry jam, yesterday.”

In her head, Liz was mortified but she squinted back her embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

He knew what she meant. She could see it in the corner of his mouth as it curled upward. This spectre of society, who had apparently never been here before, just happened to reappear the day after their chance encounter. Doing so, somehow, with a knowledge that she would return. Even having the predetermination to buy her brunch.

“I happen to believe this little place has the best cup of hot chocolate in all of Paris.” he enthused, parrying her query with a wave of his hand.

He was smug in his deflection but she couldn’t help but agree with him. So, she raised her cup. “That it does. Thank you.” she toasted, imbibing the warm beverage.

“And it’s not every day you crash into a beautiful woman.” the man purred.

Liz almost choked as she covered her spluttering mouth with her hand.

Like magic, he whipped out a napkin and presented it to her.

Taking it from him, she covered her mouth before addressing his boldness. “You’re certainly not shy, are you?”

“Should I be?”

Right there, she heard him. The same animal who rumbled in her ear, last night. Here he was, in the flesh, teasing her like he did on the sheets.

“Did you finish?” he asked, provocatively.

Liz’s interpretation of his question sent a tingling sensation to the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry?”

“Your book. Did you finish it?” he clarified, noting the absence of Anaïs Nin.

“Oh!” Liz flushed with relief. “Um, no-I mean, yes.” she stuttered.

With a blink, his eyes began to twinkle with amusement. It was as if he knew and was taking pleasure from picking her thoughts. “You’re voracious, aren’t you?”

“ _My name_ is Elizabeth.” Liz exchanged his banter.

Just like that, his onslaught ebbed and his expression softened. He inhaled a deep but subtle breath. As if hearing her name calmed him. “Hello, Lizzy.”

“ _Elizabeth._ ” she corrected him, arching her brow.

He didn’t respond. He just held her name within him.

“And who might you be?” Liz posed, tearing a piece of her croissant and taking a bite.

Once again, he was quiet. He studied her, briefly, before answering. “Red.”

She stopped. “Red?” Liz repeated. “As in the colour?”

He raised his chin in confirmation.

“Come on.” she dismissed with a grin. “That can’t be it. What’s your _real_ name?”

“Red.” he relented with a satisfied simper.

“ _I_ gave you _mine_.”

“That you did. It’s a lovely name, Lizzy.”

The pressure of this man’s confidence and her anxiety on bartering with a stranger was becoming too much to bear.

“Alright.” Liz gave up, slapping her hand on the desk. “I can’t do this." she told him bluntly but graciously. "Thank you for lunch, I appreciate the thought, but...I don’t wanna play games.”

With that, she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and shot up from her chair. The legs grating against the hardwood floor as she spun from him and made to leave.

“I’ve offended you.” he acknowledged to her back, in a gentle voice that stopped Liz in her tracks. “Forgive me.”

His words, laced with vulnerability, wrapped around Liz’s heart and she was consumed by an inescapable guilt. She sighed.

“No.” Liz murmured, as she was tugged back to him. “ _I’m_ sorry. It’s _me_ who’s being rude.” They watched each other, both wounded, waiting to see who would make the first move. “Can we start over?”

Taking a sharp breath, the man lifted himself to meet her. Liz was reminded of the shadow of him from her fantasy. Only now, he approached her with more reservation than desire. The space between them was calm and new. He closed his arms in front of him, holding his wrist in his right hand, creating a barrier between them.

“ _Bonjour, mademoiselle._ ” the man greeted, low and deep.

It took Liz’s breath away and, once again, she was captured by him. “Hi.” she breathed.

“To whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

She lifted her right hand, extending a bridge. “I’m Elizabeth.”

Slowly, he opened himself and took her hand in his own. “ _Elizabeth._ ” he accepted. Then, he bowed his head and placed a kiss upon her fingers. “ _Enchanté,_ Elizabeth. You can call me Raymond.”

Liz drew in the air around her and blushed. She was completely charmed. “ _Raymond._ ” she smiled, softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” Raymond insisted, warmly. “Forgive my...directness, earlier. Please...allow me to make it up to you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Would you join me for dinner, tonight?”

Liz paused to think.

“There’s a place not far from here in the _Place de Vosges_ -”

“Okay.” Liz retorted, stopped him. “That even _sounds expensive_.”

“Is that a no?” Raymond asked, with a hint of dismay.

“No. I mean-It’s just...I didn’t exactly pack my evening wear.”

Her joke made Raymond smile brightly from ear to ear. “I can help with that.” he offered.

She was taken aback. “You just met me yesterday. First, you buy my lunch. Then, you offer me dinner at a place that probably costs more than I make in a year. Now, you want to take me shopping?”

He hung on her question, waiting for an answer to his proposal.

“Why?” Liz puzzled.

Raymond pondered his response, taking her in, as if for the last time. “Please.” was all could say.

As she looked into his eyes, again, they caught the natural light that spilled in from the sectioned windows. In his now translucent iris’s, Liz was met with a world of possibility. She had come to Paris to escape what she’d been told she couldn’t do and it made her think about the lesson of empowerment she learned from Anaïs Nin’s book. Here was a man who had been nothing but kind to her and if she refused him now, to treat him the way she’d been treated, she knew she would forever regret it.

Even if it was only for tonight, she found herself willing to take this chance.

“Alright.” she accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Liz had set herself up in a lovely hotel, in the Le Marais district, on Rue Caffarelli." - Hotel Marais Paris Boutik La Librairie is a real hotel which served as the inspiration for Liz's room. You can see here: https://twitter.com/withwhatiam/status/1317844608299225088?s=20
> 
> "...she had shed her girlish locks for a cleaner cut that sat on her shoulders and her warm tones had been recoloured a deeper brown." - I gave Liz her S2 look early.
> 
> "Liz pulled the paperback from the shelf and studied it. On its cover was a dark-haired woman, draped in red, and clearly exposed but kaleidoskoped by ornate glass. The book was titled; ‘Delta of Venus’..." - Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin is a real book. Liz's copy is based on my own.
> 
> "...she turned south down the quieter Rue de Turenne until she happened upon a stylish, grey storefront on the corner of Rue de Foin. A bakery whose canopies read; Le Moulin de Rosa." - Another real location in Paris. The only alteration I made, in service to my story, was the indoor seating area. You can see here: https://twitter.com/withwhatiam/status/1317844977242787841?s=20
> 
> "All of sudden, he was at her ear. His voice echoed in her head." - The dream sequence and indeed the energy of this whole chapter was inspired by 'Wish I Could Fly' by Roxette. You can listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBswiNn23RU
> 
> "His palette was different today. The suit was a deep, navy blue and the vest was almost indigo." - Notice how Red's suit copied Liz's palette from the day before?
> 
> “I happen to believe this little place has the best cup of hot chocolate in all of Paris.” - A play on a real Reddington quote from Zarak Mosadek (5x18).
> 
> “There’s a place not far from here in the Place de Vosges-” - Remember the Place de Vosges? Can you guess where Red is taking Liz for dinner? *wink, wink*


	3. L'Ambroisie

After adorning his navy fedora, encircling his fingers across it’s brim to straighten it, he prompted, “Shall we?”

Liz bid farewell to the bakery and followed him out onto the street. 

“Where are we headed?” she asked, tentatively.

“I know a place just up here that will have what you need.” Raymond told her, briefly pointing in their intended direction. 

It wasn’t far. They strolled north, side-by-side. Then, in between Rue des Minimes and Rue Saint-Gilles, he stopped and turned into an alleyway. 

Liz, all of sudden, became nervous. “Whoa.” 

Raymond jerked to a halt and turned to face her. “Are you alright?” 

His sudden, odd route had raised the proverbial red flag for Liz. “An alley?”

He analysed her with a genuine concern on his face. “I realise how this must look but, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Yeah. I’m sure a lot of women have heard that one, before.” she countered, arching a brow in suspicion. 

“Fair enough.” Raymond replied, frankly, and turned on his heels into the alley. 

Liz stood at the mouth of it, watching him saunter further and further away, feeling abandoned. Minutes passed as her twisting gut told her not to follow, to run back to the safety of her hotel room, but an instinct pulled her forward. The dark, brick walls passed as she waded into the unknown. 

Up ahead, she heard overlapping laughter. It unnerved her but she listened intently and drew closer. The disembodied conversation fell upon Raymond standing at a literal hole in the wall. In its entrance stood another man. He was taller with a high forehead and side-combed, dark hair. Formally dressed in a tailored suit with a measuring tape around his shoulders. 

“...and I told him, I’m all for being thorough but, at this point, you’re just taking the nickel tour.” Raymond finished, in a critical tone.

As the tailor shook his head in disdain, Liz’s presence caught his attention. “Ah, who is this?” he asked sincerely with an upscale, English accent. 

Raymond’s head spun to see her. A look of expectancy raised in his face. “Elizabeth.”

“What’s this?” Liz approached, still with trepidation.

Raymond outstretched his arm to her, beckoning her closer, and she took his side. 

“Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet Peter. Peter, this is Elizabeth.” he introduced, waving his hand between them. 

“A pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.” the tailor bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Likewise.” Liz greeted, her attitude warming. 

“Peter, I’m treating Elizabeth to dinner and she’d like to be dressed for the occasion.”

“Well, I can certainly help with that.” the tailor obliged. “Please follow me.” he turned into the alcove and descended a flight of steps. 

“After you.” Raymond showed her, respectfully.

The situation became alarming again and Liz flinched. “Raymond, I don’t know.”

He addressed her with a kind-hearted expression. “I understand this all seems rather strange-”

“You think?” Liz cut in. 

He leaned back slightly, accepting her sarcasm. “But everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” Raymond told her, softly. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’ll go first. You can meet me inside or...you can walk away.” A sadness escaped in his hesitation. As if he dreaded the thought of her leaving. “The choice is yours, Elizabeth.” 

With that, he passed through the wall and vanished beneath the ground. 

Liz hesitated, picturing the worst. She ground her teeth as she looked back towards Rue de Turenne. Taking a chance and a deep breath, she stepped between the bricks and down the steps. They turned inward as she descended below ground level and the bleeding light from outside faded away. Her feet steadily scuffed on the stone, as she spiralled down the rabbit hole, and just as it got dark, an amber glow signalled light at the end of the tunnel. She appeared around the final corner to find Raymond waiting. He was already looking up at her.

He held out his hand and, admittedly dizzy from the descent, Liz took it.

“Careful.” he supported her down the final steps and brought her inside.

Liz’s jaw dropped at the sight as Raymond secured the entrance behind her. It was a large sculpted, underground cavern. A clean-carved arch roofed over her head and the warm lights reflected the natural stone. One wall was lined with suits in every style with a display of complementary shirts. On the other, racks of dresses and formal wear. In the middle was a long table that stretched the length of this secret place. Presented on its surface was a selection of high heels and Italians shoes.

At the end of the cavern, Peter stood behind an illuminated counter filled with jewellery, accessories, and watches. A tailor's mirror and a curtained changing area sat in the corner. 

Liz was astonished as Raymond accompanied her and started to walk her down. 

“Peter is a dear friend and the finest Tailor in Paris.” he acclaimed, softly, as they reached their host. 

“This is-” she was speechless and faced him. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“Because I’d like to be.” he answered, kindly, and dipped his head toward her. “And because you’re letting me.”

Liz failed to hide her smile. 

“Peter.” he called. “Please take good care of Elizabeth and see to it she has everything she needs.”

“Of course, sir.” 

“Put it on my tab.” Raymond finished then whispered to Elizabeth, “I’ll be right over here.” he gestured to a Corinthian leather chair in the corner.

Liz breathed in as he took a seat and crossed his legs. Then, she spun to join Peter in the mirror. 

He bowed, again, and showed her where to stand. She lifted her bag off her shoulder and put down on the floor. 

“May I take your coat?” 

Liz shrugged off her leather jacket into Peter’s hands and he hung it up in the changing booth. Standing between her and the glass, he looked at her in the reflection. 

“What can I do for you, today, Miss Elizabeth?” 

“I don’t know where to start.” Liz shook her head, nervously. “This is all very new to me.”

“Shall we start with your measurements, then?” 

“You’re the professional.” she agreed. 

Liz followed Peter’s instructions as he ruled her out with his measuring tape, sizing her shoulders, her arms, her legs. Then, carefully wrapping the ribbon around her waist and bust. 

“Do you have a particular style in mind?” 

“I’m not sure. We’re only going out for dinner.” Liz thought. Her choice of words sent a rush through her as she was reminded that tonight was, technically, a date. “I don’t want it to be too much.”

“Something simple.” he suggested.

“Something modest but...smart.” 

“Simple, modest, smart.” Peter repeated, in thought. His eyes darting, blindly, across her shoulders before he walked to the women's section and thumbed through the collection.

Liz played with her hands as she waited for him. She saw him unhook a choice from the rack and observe it as he returned. 

“One is never over-dressed or underdressed with a little, black dress.” he rectited, proudly, and held it up in front of her. “None too extravagant and perfect for a night in Paris. Would you like to try?”

“Sure.” Liz accepted and carried it into the changing room, closing the curtain behind her. 

She could hear Raymond and Peter conversing on the other side of the room which put her at ease as she removed her casual clothes and pulled the dress on. 

Zipping it up, she found it fit her perfectly. Knee-length with sleeves just short enough to hug her shoulders. A box-cut neckline that offered a window to her collar bones but a kind of collar that met the ends of her hair, hiding her neck. She loved it. 

Debating on whether to step out and present herself, she realised the look wasn’t complete. She needed shoes and complimentary jewelry. She decided to wait and changed back. 

Stepping out from behind the curtain, she handed the dress to Peter. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” she smiled at his expertise. “I’ll take it.” 

While Raymond arranged the transaction, Liz browsed the shoes and picked out a pair of matching, black heels with red soles. At the counter, she found a bejewelled, silver bangle and chose a small, shoulder clutch. 

“Thank you, Peter.” Raymond bid.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me.” Liz chimed in. Her gratitude directed at both of them.

“My pleasure. Do enjoy your evening.”

Raymond escorted Liz out, carrying her bags. “I confess I’m looking forward to seeing you.” he whispered.

“I didn’t want to spoil anything for you too soon.” she teased. “I thought it’d better to wait.” 

“All good things come to those that do.” 

He walked her back through the streets to Rue Caffarelli but she stopped on the corner.

“I’m down here.” Liz indicated.

Instead of going any further, he handed her her bags. “I’ll wait.”

“Are you sure?” Liz was still stunned by Raymond’s manners. This man, whom she’d just met, was continuing to make her feel safe by objecting to know where she was staying. 

“I think I’ll go for a stroll while you get ready.”

“I won’t be long.” 

“There’s no rush.” he comforted. “Take your time. I’ll be back to pick you up when you’re done.”

There, they parted ways and Liz returned to her room, looking forward to the night ahead. 

*

After a shower, Liz made herself presentable. She didn’t fuss too much over her hair and make-up. Only lightly smoking her eyes, to go with the dress, and waving her dark, brown locks with just the slightest curl at the ends. Slipping into her black dress and shoes, sliding on her sparkling bracelet, and hanging the clutch with her cell on her shoulder, she made her final checks in the mirror. She looked classy. A little disheveled and not too put together. It felt right. 

She left and made her way downstairs, her heels clicking on the steps. On the final flight, she got a view out of the main doors and saw Raymond pacing across the street. She stood behind the windows and peeked through the vines that had been whittled in the woodwork. He looked anxious, scanning up and down the buildings waiting for her to appear. The sun was beginning to set upon the city and, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, she opened the door and revealed herself. He was caught instantly by her as she straightened up to him. 

Raymond placed a relieved hand over his vest, as if holding himself together. She shied in response as he skipped across the street. 

He stood at arms length, admiring her. “You look-” 

Liz waited on his word, watching him search his thoughts for the answer, but it never came. Instead, he simply smiled at her. His lips curving up into his cheeks. 

Remaining silent, he offered his arm. Liz spun into him and hooked her own arm through his.

“So, where are you taking me?” Liz wondered.

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise. _I thought it’d be better to wait._ ”

Liz looked over at him. His expression was filled with cunning and Liz realised he was taunting her like she did him. She yielded to his playfulness and they set off into the evening. 

They took a familiar route on the fifteen-minute walk to Place des Vosges. Twilight had transformed the pewter-paved streets into a misty blue. It was quiet and Liz was conscious of being on the arm of a man who commanded such attention but they passed through Paris like silhouettes. 

Eventually they reached the grand square, encircled by the city's classic red, brick architecture. Within it’s centre lay a vast garden, uniformed by trees that towered over the wrought iron fence. Raymond led her around the perimeter, underneath the supported buildings. Their arched foundations were like dungeonous windows.

On the first corner, they came to a set of double doors guarded by two potted bush plants. It’s frame was illuminated and embellished overhead was the sign; L’Ambroisie. The inner glass security doors were opened by a waiting attendant who brought them inside the lavish establishment.

Liz thought this looked more like a palace than a restaurant. With its many rooms, marbled floors, and floral tapestry walls. Tall mirrors reflected the merigold lamplight and priceless chandeliers. 

They were ushered to a secluded corner, away from prying eyes, and Raymond took it upon himself to pull Liz’s chair out for her. She slotted down onto the velvet-lined cushion and he tucked her under the white tablecloth. 

Raymond removed his fedora and set it down on the space at the side of the table. A single candle between them, Raymond took his own seat and postured himself at an angle. Comfortable but ready. A waiter arrived to take their order and once Liz’s chardonnay and Raymond’s scotch had been delivered, he raised his glass. 

“To second chances.” he toasted. 

“Cheers.” Liz clinked her clear chalice to his. 

“So, Elizabeth. Tell me about yourself.”

Liz took a breath, not knowing quite how to respond.

“I know we’ve only known each other for a day but, given the circumstances, I’d like to be acquainted with more than your name.” Raymond continued with interest.

 _That’s fair_ , she thought. “What do you wanna know?” 

“What brings you all the way to Paris?” he started. “The city is usually a couples retreat, is it not? An unusual port of call for a woman alone.”

“Well, uh…I recently lost out on a job-” 

“Oh.” Raymond shifted, frowning apologetically. “That’s unfortunate.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Liz waved. “My Dad, he cheered me up. He gave me this trip and I came to help clear my head and hopefully...figure out where to go, next. Find my place.”

Raymond took a shine to her optimism. “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” he imparted.

Liz turned the words over in her head. “That actually makes a lot of sense. Very wise, Raymond.” she drank to that.

“Wisdom is wasted on the old.”

“Don’t say that.” Liz tutted. “We could all do with being a litter wiser.” 

They shared a look of agreement. “Tell me about your job. What do you do for a living?” 

“Well, I was a psychologist. I mean, I still _am_ but I quit my job after I failed to get the position I wanted.”

“And what was that?”

Liz debated telling him but, with that chapter behind her, figured there was no harm in it. “I...worked for the Bureau.”

Raymond dropped his head and looked at her from under his raised brow. “The _Bureau?”_

“Mm-hmm. _The_ Bureau.” she confirmed. “I was part of a Psych Unit in New York, profiling criminals in major cases. I went to Quantico hoping to make Special Agent but...I didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry.” he sympathized. 

“Yeah. I worked _so hard_ for six years.” she huffed. “Made breaks in cases that no one else did. My colleagues all called me...a bitch…but I knew I was better than any of them. All that for six years..and guaranteed six _guys_ got my job just by showing up. Apparently, _I’m_ rash _,_ amoral _,_ make judgemental errors _. An aptitude unbefitting of a Special Agent._ ” Liz quoted, bitterly. 

After realising she had trailed off, she returned to his gaze. 

He had arched an eyebrow in reflection. “And here you are, in Paris, having dinner with a stranger.” 

A moment of silence passed as she collected his point. She chuckled at the irony, hiding her face. “Touché.” she smirked before taking her temples between her fingertips in embarrassment. “Oh, God. I just vented at you. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright. We all need to...blow off some steam, every once in a while.” he breathed. 

“That’s true. Thank you for listening.” Liz settled her arms back on the table and began pinching the stem of her glass.

“You’re welcome.”

“So. What about you? I told you my story. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“My job...keeps me busy. I move around a lot.” he answered, taking a sip from his amber-filled tumbler. 

“What do you do?”

He hesitated. “I’m an investor, of sorts.”

“Oh? What sort of investments?”

“Shipping is my business.” Raymond divulged. “But that, in itself, offers opportunity for other...exploits.” 

His response gave Liz pause. “That explains a lot.”

“Does it?”

Before she could go on, their courses began to arrive. Their starter consisted of a duck foie gras with spices and frivolities of radish with mint. For their main course, Raymond had ordered the Brittany lobster with chestnuts, pumpkin and devil’s sauce. Liz sliced into a gray-pepper crusted rack of lamb from Lozère. Dessert was a bitter cocoa shortbread tart with Bourbon vanilla ice cream. Each dish was beautifully presented and tasted divine. Liz never imagined she’d sample delicacies like this. 

When they had finished, they both found themselves staring at the tiny, flickering flame that ate at the tall candle in front of them. 

“I’m curious.” Raymond finally murmured. 

“Hm?” Liz snapped out of her trance.

“The profiling. I’m fascinated. I heard that that method of investigating started all the way back in the seventies. Is that true?”

Liz slowly nodded, suddenly feeling she was back at the Academy. “That’s true.”

“That they interviewed death row inmates, gathering intel on patterns and behaviors in order to apprehend the new breed of criminal.” he lectured with intrigue.

“Also true.” Liz repeated. “The study of Behavioural Science rose with that of the serial killer.”

“Did you ever-?”

“No, but I studied their profiles at the Academy. I worked on active cases - criminals who were still out there, on the run. My job was to learn their M.O. in order to identify them.”

“What drew you to such a field?”

She hesitated this time, trying to decide if she should tell him. “I’ve always had a deep yearning to understand and relate to the criminal mind. To know why they do the things that they do. I’m exhilarated by it.”

Raymond contemplated her and her revelation. “Would you profile me?”

Liz scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

“I’d so like to know how _you_ see things.”

“But I barely know you.”

“You didn’t know those criminals either.” he pointed out. 

Liz silently concurred with him. 

“Tell me my profile.” he hinted, almost flirtatiously. 

Her eyes began to dart over him, recollecting him. “You’re a recluse. You keep to yourself which makes you invisible and you’re quite comfortable with that. You like having an expensive taste but enjoy the simpler things, in life, just as much. Like, nice gestures or...looking up at the sky.” Her eyes fell as she remembered her first encounter with him. She returned to find him masked in the hazy candlelight. 

“That’s very kind…but that’s what you _know_ about me.” he said in a challenging tone. “When you look at me, what do you _see_?”

His words drew her in and she found herself transfixed, looking into his shadowed glamour. 

“It’s your eyes.” Liz revealed. “When I met you, I saw who you were immediately...because they’re eyes I’ve been staring into my entire career.” She waited for him to object but he remained perfectly receptive. “They’re dark, mysterious...you’re dangerous. But there’s something else, something behind the danger...and I’m afraid.” Liz read. “Not just of you...but of myself...because of my instincts. I’m drawn to you in more ways than I care to admit...and I know I shouldn’t.”

She sat here, letting him absorb her confession. Her heart was beating out of her chest, not just out of her own acknowledgement but worrying how he would react to it. Slowly, his welcoming demeanor faltered. His sight blinking and lowering into the space between them and a strain formed on his face. It wasn’t an offended expression as much as it was acceptance.

“Thank you.” Raymond uttered, his lips wrapping tensely around the words. Almost choking.

“For what?”

“For being honest.”

A melancholy had descended upon them as they finally addressed their situation. Liz felt burdened and relieved all at once. Her mind raced as she considered that she may have ruined everything. 

Raymond broke the silence and uncertainty. “Let me take you home.”

*

Night had befallen Paris as he escorted her back to her hotel. They passed under the old, glowing street lamps that hung from the exterior of the buildings. Lighting their way in the, now, blackened streets. A fitting atmosphere for neither of them had spoken a word to each since the dinner table. Still, Raymond had her arm in courtesy. Liz only linked to him lightly, feeling undeserving of being attached to him after what she had said. He made no objection either way which only made her feel worse. 

Passing a closed Le Moulin de Rosa, Liz just wished she could take it all back. Their straight and narrow journey up Rue de Turenne seemed to last tortuously long. As they neared the junction on Rue de Bretagne, they were funnelled by a particularly dingy section of this long corridor. The storefronts faded into the walls and Liz wanted to be swallowed up into the void. 

Just then, a pair of hooded figures emerged from a doorway. As they crossed paths, one of the shadows whistled. One, twice. An unintelligible remark was spoken. Liz couldn’t understand the French but she recognized the harassing tone and knew what it meant. She just rolled her eyes. 

In doing so, she caught Raymond in her peripheral. His head had spun toward the verbal offender and his hold on her jerked and broke away. She felt the energy from him as he turned with the intention of pursuing them. It was hostile. 

“Raymond!” she blurted, spinning and reaching out a hand, catching him after only making a step. 

He was still in mid-stride as she gripped his elbow tight, preventing him from going any further, but she felt the ensuing tension in his arm. She looked after him to see the look on his face. His lips were pursed and his eyes were vacant and white with rage beneath his fedora. 

Her lips parted as she saw her worst fear. The intense fury and capability of a dangerous man.

“Raymond.” she said, softy, to no response. “They’re just cat-callers, Raymond. Look at me.”

It took a moment, as he watched the delinquents vanish into the distance, but he slowly retreated to face her, a glimpse of intent still lingered until their eyes met. Then, it dissipated as he saw her concerned reaction. Replaced by a look of realization that he had revealed the other side of himself. The one she had predicted. His expression softened and lifted, filling with regret. 

“Just take me home.” Liz pleaded. 

He shrunk, ashamed over how he’d acted, and walked with her back up the street. He didn’t take back her arm. A distance had solidified between them as they passed through the crossroad up ahead and arrived at Rue Caffarelli. Their steps slowed as they reached the ornate, blue door of Liz’s hotel. A lamp spotlit them in the empty street, setting the stage. 

Liz had closed her arms before her, guarding herself, as she faced him. 

His head was down, abashed, hiding beneath his hat. Reaching up, he gripped the roof of it in his fingers, removed it, and held it against his chest like a plate of armour. Even though he had revealed himself, he still couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He had withdrawn, looking into nothing. 

Liz couldn’t stand the descension anymore. “I want to thank you...for dinner.” she emitted, the pain escaping in her voice. “For everything.”

That sorrow grew on his face as he came to realise what was happening. His hat did nothing to shield against it. They stood stalemated until Liz decided to give him one last parting gift. 

She drifted toward him, like a passing ship, and docked the edge of her mouth upon his cheek. Her top lip sounded ever so quietly against his skin. A final act of kindness before she drew back. 

As Liz floated away from him, their faces still so close, she felt Raymond follow her. As if he was anchored to her. His eyes were now shut, holding onto the memory of this moment. 

“Please, don’t go.” he begged. 

“Raymond, I can’t.” Liz ached and she turned from him, hiding the tears that were threatening to build. 

“Wait.” 

Liz stopped with her hand on the door, focusing on the roses in the woodwork so as to not catch his reflection in the glass. 

“There’s a park not far from here. Square du Temple.” she heard Raymond say. “I’ll be there, tomorrow, at noon...in case you change your mind.”

“Raymond-” she began to protest. 

“If you don’t...you’ll never see me, again. I promise.” 

Liz fought to hold back her torrent. 

“I’m so sor-Goodnight, Elizabeth.” he anguished.

Liz listened to his footsteps as he flew from her. She dared not look back for fear she would follow him. Instead she pushed open the door and went inside. 

Her ascent up the stairs was heavy, like she was climbing a mountain. 

She didn’t realize she was in her room until she heard the lock click shut. That’s when it hit her. 

Liz fell against the door, trying to brace herself against the panel but her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground. She cried, profusely, into her hand. 

_What have I done?,_ the voice in her head screamed.

The next thing she knew, everything was black.

*

Liz watched in dismay as she saw herself. Her hand on the hotel door. Raymond behind her. 

She walked towards them in the abyss. As she reached the light, her double passed through the door and Liz was left alone with him. She, lucidly, realized she was seeing what she refused to see.

Raymond was still standing there, abandoned in the street, with his hat covering his heart. Liz looked at him. He didn’t see her for she knew she was a ghost to him. Instead, he was looking through the glass before him. Longing only for the one who left him. 

Even though she knew this was a dream, Liz felt her heart break at the sight of his face. His eyes were glassy and brimming with tears but they did not fall. They hid a suffering that he could not speak of. She wanted to hear him cry out to her but he just stood there, grief-stricken.

He abruptly crowned himself and left the light. Liz was forced to watch him be consumed by nothingness. She willed herself forward and chased after him.

She didn’t care where it took her. She had to find him, to see him again. She felt her feet moving, carrying her, but there was nothing beneath them. No solid ground. 

She found light again but it was the same image as before. Her leaving him. She ran through the scenario once, twice. On the third arrival, she reached for the door handle and tried to pry it open but it was locked. She battered the window, seeing her form that climbed the hotel steps.

 _“Liz, come back!”_ her voice echoed.

 _“Please, don’t go.”_ Raymond’s voice responded, behind her. _“Elizabeth.”_

Liz felt her time running out and she spun to see him once more before he disappeared forever. This time, he was looking right at her. He could see her. His hat was gone and his eyes were clear and filled with light again. She found their colour as he swaggered toward her. 

Now, it was she who longed for him. To feel him touch her and he granted her silent wish. He took her hands in his and leaned in close, as close as they were last night. She felt everything now. The ground beneath her, the door against her back. His forehead berthed upon hers. She felt the softness of his skin as he sought her lips. Liz needed to feel him, to beg for his forgiveness with her kiss, and just as their lips touched, he melted into shadow. 

*

Liz sat tucked into her sofa. The pen still in her hand, its tip still attached to the page of her journal as she finished chronicling her new dream. 

Motionless, she began to analyse the message it gave her and everything that had transpired in the past day. Remaining on the same page, she left a space and wrote at the bottom: 

**I see you and I see myself. I need you like you need me.**

**My place in this world.**

She checked her phone. It was 11:55am. Her eyes widened and her heart leapt as she did off of the cushion and wrenched open her door. Thankfully, she had gotten dressed but she didn’t care how she looked. She just bolted down the stairs and out into the city. Running west, with her whipping behind her, she turned north onto Rue de Bretagne towards Square du Temple. 

Finding an opening in the fence, she sprinted into the park but began to panic as she discovered how big this garden was. Looking at her phone again, it was now one minute to the hour. 

Liz ran down the path into the centre of the park. She found herself between a bandstand and a flower pond. Whirling in every direction, searching the faces that passed her by, she implored to see the shape of him. 

Minutes passed. No Raymond. 

Her rapid breathing had ebbed as she sunk onto a park bench. Beaten by time, she felt her heart shatter as her back settled against the cold steel. She was too late. He was gone. 

She held her hands on her lap, trying to remember his phantom touch, as she stared at the ground between her shoes. All she could do was blame herself and she tormented over the honesty that drove him away. She couldn’t believe that after she had finally found something to hold onto, she had failed. Again. 

Even in the midst of park-goers, she felt alone. She watched as their shadows stretched across the concrete in front of her. 

Until, a pair of dark, brown Italians stepped before her black boots. They pointed toward her and hope flooded her as she looked up to see who filled them. 

The air left her lungs as he stood above her. Raymond. 

He returned her relieved discovery through his own laboured breathing. He had been searching for her, too. 

His suit was a mourning colour as he beheld her with those heartened, grey eyes. They gathered each other, trying to believe that they were really here.

“You came.” he breathed, brokedly, swallowing his inward joy. 

“I had to.” Liz tried to contain herself. “I told you, last night, that I couldn’t do it, that I shouldn’t, because I was scared of who you were.” she shook her head at her own words. “Everything you do makes me think that you’re going to steal me away and I’m never gonna be seen again.”

He winced.

“But, then, you do something else that makes me believe that you simply aren’t capable of it. Ever since I met you, every time I close my eyes, all I see...is you...and I can’t explain it.” Liz thought that sounded less corny in her head. “God, that sounds so stupid.”

“No.” he refused. “It’s not.”

Liz took him in. 

“You were right. I’m not perfect, Elizabeth, and I’m sorry you had to see me like that, last night.” he confessed, referring to the altercation with the cat-caller. “But since the day _I_ met _you_ , I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” he, amply, shook his own head.

They were the same. 

“If I’ve ever given you the wrong impression, it was never my intention.” Raymond continued. “But if you let me, I promise, I won’t give you cause to doubt me again.” 

Without missing a beat, Liz simply nodded and he inhaled her acceptance. 

Raymond descended onto the bench beside her. She followed him as he rubbed his palms over his thighs. Still needing his touch, Liz reached out and smoothed her fingers over the back of his hand. 

This startled him and he looked down at her gesture. Ever so slightly, he opened his hand and welcomed her to intertwine her fingers with his own. 

Raymond turned to her and they found their eyes, again. He looked at her with a fondness that she’d only dreamed of. That’s when she saw him, the man behind the danger. 

His mist poured into her sea and she sank against his shoulder. They leaned into one another, bound together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In its entrance stood another man. He was taller with a high forehead and side-combed, dark hair. Formally dressed in a tailored suit with a measuring tape around his shoulders." - Peter, the Tailor, is based on Peter Seranfinowicz and his character in John Wick 2.
> 
> “One is never over-dressed or underdressed with a little, black dress.” - A direct quote from fashion designer, Karl Lagerfeld.
> 
> "Knee-length with sleeves just short enough to hug her shoulders. A box-cut neckline that offered a window to her collar bones but a kind of collar that met the ends of her hair, hiding her neck." - Liz's dress and look is based on that of her outfit for the Montreal dinner from The Freelancer (1x02).
> 
> "A little disheveled and not too put together." - A Parisian fashion secret. 
> 
> “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” - A direct quote from writer, Henry Miller (whom Red was reading in Ch.2).
> 
> "Their starter consisted of a duck foie gras with spices and frivolities of radish with mint. For their main course, Raymond had ordered the Brittany lobster with chestnuts, pumpkin and devil’s sauce. Liz sliced into a gray-pepper crusted rack of lamb from Lozère. Dessert was a bitter cocoa shortbread tart with Bourbon vanilla ice cream." - Red and Liz's courses are real dishes from the current L'Ambroisie menu. 
> 
> "I heard that that method of investigating started all the way back in the seventies. Is that true? That they interviewed death row inmates, gathering intel on patterns and behaviors in order to apprehend the new breed of criminal." - This is indeed an origin of criminal profiling in the FBI. 
> 
> "Raymond descended onto the bench beside her. She followed him as he rubbed his palms over his thighs. Still needing his touch, Liz reached out and smoothed her fingers over the back of his hand." - The final scene is my remix of the 'Rocketman' sequence from Tom Connolly (2x22).


	4. La Vie en Rose

“What do we do now?” Liz asked, settled against the midnight Merino wool of Raymond’s jacket. 

The passers-by flickered past them like the frames of an old movie as they watched from their park bench. 

“Whatever you’d like.” he breathed across her forehead, stroking her thumb with his own. 

“I need a drink.” she sighed, almost exhausted. “And I may or may not have left my hotel room door open.”

Raymond chuckled. 

Unexpectedly, it was the sweetest sound Liz had ever heard. It made her bubble up and she joined in, burying her face into his shoulder. They laughed at each other, releasing the chaotic tension of the past twelve hours.

When their self-referential humour had subsided, they rose together and walked, hand-in-hand, out of the garden. On the door of Liz’s hotel, they found another. Earthy roses, oceanic in colour, grew up the windows. They bloomed with the hope of their new-found understanding and washed away the tragedy of the night before. 

“Do you wanna come up?”

Raymond was surprised. “Do you want me to?”

“Sure.” Liz smiled, warmly.

He tilted his head to peek through the glass. “Will I be allowed?”

“The Concierge isn’t there.” she checked. “Come on.”

Liz gently pulled him by the hand and pushed open the door. They passed through the narrow foyer and walked up the stairs to Liz’s room, finding her door was indeed off the latch. 

“Shoot.” Liz swore as she rushed in. “Better check to make sure nothing’s missing.”

Raymond stood back out of decency. “If there is, I’ll be happy to replace it for you.”

“Don’t be silly.” she called out to him “Besides...it’d be my fault.”

“All the same.” 

Noticing he was still outside, Liz swung open the door for him. “Come on in.”

Raymond stood in the threshold and was astonished by what he saw. “Oh, my.” he gasped as he absorbed the library that was Liz’s room.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s a treasure trove.” Raymond enthused as he entered and began smoothing her fingers over the sleek, wooden shelves.

Liz found his wonder so endearing she felt she might burst. “How’s all _this_ for wisdom?”

He made that sweet little sound, again, as he circled back to her. “How many have you read?”

“Just the one, so far.”

Standing before her, he gave her that same interested look he did when they’d first collided; the Henry to her Anaïs. 

Liz also realised he was in her room for the first time. Not as an astral body but here, now, in the flesh. Behind her was the bed on which his primal form had seduced her. She could still feel that presence behind those soft, foggy eyes. She gulped down her fantasy in a bid to control herself. 

_Don’t ruin this, now._ “So, what are we doing?” she blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Tonight. What are we doing?” 

“Elizabeth.” he calmed her in a low voice. “Haven’t we had enough excitement? There’s no need to rush.”

“Why not?” she offered. “We understand each other, don’t we? Let’s celebrate.”

He pouted and rocked his head to and fro. “Well, when you put it that way. What would you _like_ to do, tonight?” 

“How about that drink?” she proposed. 

He looked up into space, in thought, then inhaled a deciding breath. “I know a quiet place, south of the river. Drinks, live music. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.” Liz accepted with excitement. 

Raymond simpered at her enthusiasm. “Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll come back later?”

“Sure.” 

Before he left, Liz tangled her index finger into his hand. He responded by lifting hers between them. For a moment, he studied the smooth, delicate skin of her backhand and brushed his thumb over it. 

Liz squeezed, taking the chance to feel him. His hands were strong but slender, like they were sculpted from marble. They had seen hardship yet, despite their obvious power, he was careful with her. 

Finally, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the space between her fingers. He took his time, savouring her scent as if he was taking it with him. “I’ll be back.” his words breezed over her knuckles. 

“Bye.” she whispered in return. 

Liz was weighted with longing, following him as he walked out into the hallway. Leaning on the door handle with her face pressed against its wood, she watched him as he stopped at the top of the stairs. He turned back to see her one more time. In that moment, as they exchanged expectant looks, she felt her heart go with him and he descended the steps. 

After closing her door, the hinge squeaking, she slid onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow, she snuggled into it and drifted to sleep, waiting for the hour that he would return to her. 

*

She had awoken a few hours later. Up and about, dressed in a bathrobe, Liz cleansed herself preparing for Raymond’s arrival. 

_Knock, knock, knock._ Three knocks. Just like her dream. 

She rushed from the bathroom to answer the door. There he stood, in classic black and white. His three-piece had been replaced with a clean, buttoned shirt and a bowtie.

Liz was dazzled. “What are you wearing?!”

“A tuxedo.” he answered, whimsically. “I have something for you. May I come in?”

He was holding a bag similar to one that he had carried for her the day before. 

Liz opened the room to him. “I thought you said this place was quiet.”

“Quiet...not casual.” he clarified, as he placed her gift on the bed. “Come and see.” he prompted, as she took her place by his side.

Liz reached into the stylish bag and pulled out a pale box. It was tied with a matching gossamer ribbon. 

“Open it.” he implored. 

Liz rested the box on the bed and pulled on the knot, loosening its grip on the lid. She lifted it and inside was flooded by bold, red material. She gasped and raised the garment; a v-neck, floor-length gown. 

“It’s gorgeous!” Liz exhaled, awestruck. Her breath fluttered the short, pleated sleeves.

“Until _you’re_ in it, it’s only a dress.” he replied in her ear. 

Liz bit her lip and gritted at him, playfully smacking him on the arm. He giggled at her as she dashed back to the bathroom to change. As she held the scarlet fabric against her chest, she came to realise something. 

Turning in the doorway, she squinted at him. “This is _tailored.”_

He cocked his head sideways with a hint of smile. 

“Did you get my measurements from Peter?”

Raymond shrugged, modestly. 

Liz pursed her smile as she closed the door. 

She stepped into the dress, pulling the sleek cloth up her body, and hooked it onto her shoulders. It was a little more revealing than the last one. Her neck and arching clavicles were now exposed but she looked elegant. The sleeves curtained her shoulders and the vertical folds that flowed down to the floor were broken by sash around her midriff. 

Liz decided to pin her hair to one side. She parted it so that it swept across her forehead and joined into a curl that sat on her right shoulder. Smoking her eyes, again, and rouging her lips to compliment the dress, it felt right. Liz only needed one more thing. 

She clicked open the door and turned her back. “Can you zip me up?” she asked aloud.

He didn’t say anything. She just heard him steadily approach her, the floorboards creaking beneath his steps. Feeling his presence behind her, she felt him pinch the zipper between his fingers, and ease it up her back. 

He withdrew, back down the corridor. Liz revolved and saw him look upon her. 

His face lifted, breath-taken by her. He admired her like he’d just completed a masterpiece. “Wow!” he managed beneath his breath. 

Before she could thank him, Raymond raised a hand and turned to the bed. Reaching into the bag, he retrieved two more small boxes and brought them to her. He unpackaged them himself. The first was a jewellery box. Inside was a ruby-encrusted bracelet. Raymond stretched it open for her and she slipped her left wrist inside. The other piece was an onyx ring that, after taking her right hand, he slid onto her middle finger. In the second box, a pair of sparkling, ankle-strap, silver shoes. 

Not taking his eyes off her, he lowered himself on one knee. “May I?”

Bracing herself on a bookshelf, she slowly lifted her foot for him. Looking down at her offer, he carefully wrapped his fingers behind her ankle. Liz looked off into her room, focusing on the warmth of his hands against her skin as he cradled and guided her into the heels. Supporting her on his thigh, he began securing the strap into the tiny buckle. As he did so, her eyes fell towards the coffee table and she started to panic as she saw her journal still open on its surface. Her heart jumped as she scanned the page. Even from across the room, she could tell there was more writing there than what she had left. Handwriting that was not her own.

Raymond adjusted, switching onto his other knee. Liz instinctively lifted her other leg and the skirt of her dress parted and fell away from her thigh. There was an opening, like a curtain, crafted into the design that revealed her. 

They both stopped. A wave of heat flushed through her as her leg lingered, exposed, and she waited. Her breathing deepened. So did his. She could see it in his rising shoulders. After a collective moment, he simply continued to adorn her and fastened her other shoe. He set her foot down and, before rising to see all of her, Liz felt Raymond’s fingertips graze ever so slightly across her calf. 

At her level, their eyes met. 

“You look-” 

“Yes?” Liz pleaded, hoping this time he would finish his sentence. 

“You look positively radiant, Elizabeth.”

They traded bated breath. “I think, under the circumstances, you...could call me Lizzy.”

She heard him, this time. His chest rising as he inhaled her blessing. In this narrow corridor, the air grew thick and heated. As did his gaze.

“Lizzy.” Her name rumbled like low thunder, rolling effortlessly off his tongue. Like it was meant to be and the sound filled her like music. “Shall we go?”

“Just a minute.” Liz relented. “I want to check something first.”

Raymond’s eyes flashed. He didn’t question her. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” and he retreated, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. 

Liz paused, calculating the time it would take him to reach the street while contemplating what just happened. It seemed so simple. She had willingly allowed him to dress her, touch her, and see her. She revelled in the fresh memory of his dexterous hands against her skin, the chance he took to feel her, the sound of his voice in her head. Everything was happening so fast and, although they had just started anew, it felt as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. 

She approached the coffee table, to her journal. Her heart quickened, in anticipation, with every step. Lifting the leather-bound volume, she examined today’s page - her entry of last night's dream:

**I see you and I see myself. I need you like you need me.**

**My place in this world.**

In the space below it, new words that were not hers said:

_**I desire you. I write to you. I write for you. All I can say is; I want, I want, I want you.** _  
_**\- R** _

*

He had driven them south of the River Seine to a hideaway, a cavernous little jazz club sculpted under the city. On his arm, they walked past the main bar on street-level and descended the catacomb stairs into a stone auditorium. They passed under an archway that opened up onto a small dance floor surrounded by red lounge chairs that lined the perimeter of the chamber and met a snug stage in the far corner. Turning up another set of small steps into a table area, they took a booth and sat across from one another.

A server approached them and asked, “ _Bonsoir._ _Que voulez-vous boire?_

“ _S'il vous plaît, un whisky écossais et, pour madame, un cocktail de l'aviation."_ Raymond purred.

Even over the band's ambience, Liz was completely enchanted by his French drawl. He matched her gaze as their waiter departed to fix their drinks. 

Liz was speechless. All she could think about was him and the words he’d left in her journal. His boldness reminded her of their first conversation at Le Moulin de Rosa but, unlike then, he was keeping his promise not to give her reason to be afraid of him. She didn’t care if he had read her entries, her thoughts, her fantasies. She admired the way he had chosen to communicate. It was subtle and she couldn’t deny the romanticism nor that she had long since fallen for it. 

In their shared silence, she reached her hand across the table. Almost at the same time, anticipating her movement, he leaned forward and met her halfway. He took her hand in his own and they held each other. They looked down at their connection, amazed by their coordination. Liz’s eyes snapped up to his and, again, he was her mirror. They were the same. Staring into each other, unspoken, Liz knew that he had seen what she had written of him. Just like she could see, in his heavy eyes, that he knew she was aware of how much he wanted her. 

Their bond was suddenly broken by their arriving drinks. Raymond’s scotch glass was filled with liquid fire and Liz’s drink was a deep, violet cocktail served in a martini glass. 

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Liz repeated, as they joined their cups with a melodic chime. 

She wrapped her lips around the rim of the glass and before she could taste it, she could smell it’s floral scent. The notes of berries, lemon, and sweet candy hugged her tongue and washed the words down her throat.

“Tastes like spring, doesn’t it?” Raymond spoke for her. 

Bewildered and before she could respond, the band changed. Piano notes ascended with a beating bass, a strum of a guitar, and a gentle drum symbol. 

“Ah!” Raymond exhaled, baring his teeth with a smile. “I love this one.”

Taking another sip from her glass, Liz listened as a trumpet took centre stage. She recognised the chords.

Raymond stood up and buttoned his jacket. Standing over her, he offered his hand. 

“ _No!_ ” Liz mouthed. 

“Come now. You didn’t think you’d be _sitting_ in that dress all night, did you?” he encouraged.

She couldn’t argue his point but that didn’t stop her from sitting agape at the thought. Bashfully, Liz took his hand and he lifted her up. Leading her down onto the floor, amongst the other dancers, he spun her into the centre. His fingers curled inside her hand, opening it to hook onto him as she rested her free arm over his shoulder. She felt the palm of his other hand take the small of her back and he held her close. 

They began to sway to the music just as the trumpeter stopped and began to sing in a soothing voice. To Liz’s surprise, he sang in English.

_“Hold me close and hold me fast._

_The magic spell you cast._

_This is La Vie en Rose.”_

Liz let out a self-conscious breath during the opening verse.

“What is it?” 

“I’m not much of a dancer.” 

“You’re doing fine.” Raymond comforted her. “In fact, I think, you’re quite a natural.”

“We’re just swaying.”

He smiled. “All the same.” 

_“When you kiss me, heaven sighs._

_And though I close my eyes, I see La Vie en Rose.”_

Just then, the light began to slowly dim. Liz looked around, concerned. 

“It’s alright, Lizzy.” Raymond couldn’t stop looking at her. 

She turned to him just as the lights went out and he disappeared.

_“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart._

_A world where roses bloom.”_

In the darkness, Liz turned her face and leaned her head down, finding Raymond’s open shoulder. She relaxed into him and she felt his cheek rest against her as they continued to slow dance. 

_“And when you speak, angels sing from above._

_Everyday words seem to turn into love songs._

_Give your heart and soul to me and life will alway be La Vie en Rose.”_

The singer stopped and began to blow his trumpet to the melody, again, and the lights rose. Liz lifted from Raymond’s shoulder as her eyes adjusted to the light. Perhaps it was just her vision but the room and stones seemed to have turned a pale blush colour. She sought his face, again, and it was as if he’d never left. He continued to see her and it made her swoon. She fell back into him, her temple joining against his and he welcomed her. Raymond moved closer, nestling into her, and they now danced cheek-to-cheek to the crescendo. 

When the final horn of the trumpet sounded, the strings of a guitar took over. Softly picking a tranquil tune. They continued to slowly revolve to the notes and Liz’s eyes grew heavy. 

Her heart raced, beating against his chest as they leaned into each other. 

“I saw what you wrote for me.” she confessed.

His frame expanded as he breathed in her words. “As did I.” he returned. 

“Why?” Liz asked, existentially. “Why me?”

Raymond lifted away from her and they looked at each other, contemplating the other’s motives. 

With a blink, his face changed and lifted. “I once went mining for sapphires in Kashmir.” Raymond began. “The most profitable deposit in the world and I wanted to find the most exceptional gem I could get my hands on. The sapphires there are so vivid, so mysterious, that the experts call them ‘Blue Velvet’.”

His voice was so low. He spoke only to her. Liz didn’t know where this story was coming from or where it was going but the way he told it enthralled her. So, she humoured him. “And did you find one?”

“Yes. Two, in fact, but only when I wasn’t looking for them.” his eyes shifted to hers. “ _They_ found _me_...and not in a cave in Central Asia...but in a little bakery in the middle of Paris.”

Then, it became clear and Liz stared at him in shock. 

“The deepest, most illustrious, sapphires on Earth...gray in comparison to the ones I found in your eyes, Lizzy.” he continued to sway her. “My exploits have made me phenomenally wealthy but you-” Raymond paused, bowing closer to her. “ _You_ make me feel like the richest man in this world.” 

Liz struggled to breathe and she began to tremble deep inside. She had never felt so desired. “Wh-who _are_ you?” she stammered, breathily. 

Raymond moved towards her, replacing his cheek against hers, and whispered in her ear, “ _Anybody you want me to be._ ”

They were still, now. Liz felt the final breath leave her. Taking its place was a feeling of wholeness. Like she had just been given everything she had ever wanted. 

The deep horn of a bold brass instrument blew from the stage, intertwining with the strings, filling the room with a lustrous air. The slow and vigorous sound brought the lights down, again. 

Liz set her face before his as the room around them dimmed. She wanted to see him. His cloudy eyes, his devilish features, his captivating mouth. Before she could lose him to the dark, she drifted toward him and, just as he vanished, her lips found his. Softly, she lingered there, waiting for him and he began to capture her. He moved his lips against hers and, finally, she could breathe again. The world was shut out and there was only this feeling. Only them. Slowly, they found each other again and again, as they lapped their kiss against the other to the rise and fall of the baritone sax. 

Their holding hands snaked into the other, interlocked their fingers. Raymond’s grip on her back tightened, pulling her closer, and Liz smoothed her free hand across the back of his neck, holding him. They were teetering on the edge, fighting desperately, not to devour each other in the abyss as the brassy music faded and the sensual strings returned. 

They stopped and, behind her eyes, Liz could see the hue of the lights. She opened them to find him breathing heavily and his eyes weighted with desire. It was as if she had stolen half of him and taken it within herself. She rested her forehead against his and they traded their warmth.

“Come home with me tonight.” he begged. 

Trying to catch her breath, Liz exhaled. “Now?”

“Now.” 

Her answer lay in her eyes and his lit up. Pulling her by the hand, he led her off the dance floor. As they approached the archway exit, Raymond reached into his inside pocket and handed their waiter a folded bill. 

Climbing the stairs together, they walked through the main bar and out of the club. On the street, Liz careened into him as they searched for his car. They found his black E-Class Mercedes and he opened the door for her. Liz stepped around but, before she climbed in, she stopped. She turned to look at him. His eyes were wild with anticipation. Liz leaned over the door frame and kissed him. He, eagerly, returned it as their lips locked. Once, twice. She broke away and descended into the coupé. Raymond closed the door behind her and made his way to the drivers side. He got in, turned the ignition, and drove into the night. 

*

It wasn’t a long drive to Île de la Cité, an island on the river in the centre of Paris. Raymond pulled over on the bank of the Seine, on the northernmost point of the island. They had been holding hands the whole ride over, gripping and stroking each other anxiously. Before getting out, he lifted their hands from the centre console and gratefully kissed the back of her hand. 

Walking around the back of the car, he courteously opened her door and lifted her out.

He brought her into the adjacent building, an adjoined structure that overlooked the river, through a set of black doors. Raymond twisted his key into the lock and showed her inside. At the end of the narrow corridor was an old, wrought-iron elevator. He beckoned her inside and slid the folding gate shut, cranked the handle to activate the counterweight, and the elevator began to ascend, passing a dim light with each floor. 

As each bulb lit and darkened them, Liz couldn’t contain her tension anymore and sought his lips again. He kissed her graciously until they reached the top floor, the elevator bouncing to a halt. 

Raymond let her out as he secured the elevator and walked her to the only door. Liz stood with her back to the wall as Raymond unveiled a secret panel beside the entrance. Behind it was a biometric keypad that glowed in light blue neon. He tapped a series of numbers into the screen and placed his thumb on the scanner. 

“Are you James Bond?” Liz asked, slyly. 

His mouth curled upwards, in response, as the lock to the door clicked and he pushed it open. “After you.” 

Liz stepped round the corner. Despite everything she had seen these last few days, she still found herself astonished by his apartment. The space married modern design with a classic, quaint interior. The floors were dark wood and the light walls absorbed the warm lamps. 

“Would you like a tour?” he said, as he took her side. 

With his hand on her back, they advanced into his home. There was a kitchen on the right, boxed by a breakfast counter and a window-like frame. “Help yourself to whatever your heart desires.” Raymond told her. “And the living area.” he pointed before them to an open room fenced by two sofas with a coffee table between them. A wide bay window canvassed the city and a writing desk sat against the wall on the right. On either side were two sets of shelves, one with a library of books and the other a collection of vinyl records with a turntable nestled in the corner. 

Turning left into a hallway, he showed her the bathroom coloured in sandy marble with a large shower room contained by curved glass. 

He turned to the last room that joined on the same side as the living area. “And over here-” he looked at her as he opened the door. “The bedroom.” 

Her eyes slowly left him as she entered. On her right was a closet room. On the far side was another set of windows that opened onto a spacious balcony. In the middle of the room, atop a shag rug, was a grand but sleek, black four poster bed. The frame was draped by translucent tulle and the mattress was covered by soft blankets. 

Liz ran her hand over the silken sheets. “It’s beautiful.”

There was a moment of silence. “Not as beautiful as you.” he uttered behind her. 

She faced him. He was leaning against the corner of the closet looking like a Hollywood movie star. As they gazed knowingly at each other, he began to unravel his bowtie. 

Liz turned back to the bed, wrapping her hand around the bottom post, bracing herself. 

As her chest pounded, she heard him creep forward until his presence was behind her. Slowly, he dipped into her neck and latched his lips to her. Gently kissing as she opened herself to him. He took her hips between his careful hands and began grasping at her waist. 

Liz melted under his touch, her clutch on the post the only thing keeping her upright. 

“Tell me what you feel.” he murmured between embraces.

Mustering just enough energy to match him, she spoke. “I feel you...pressed against me.”

“Does that excite you?”

“...Yes.”

Their bodies pushed against each other and Raymond lifted his lips to her ear. In the faintest whisper, he asked, “ _Do you want me to make love to you?_ ”

All the air left her chest as she pleaded with a sigh, “... _Please!_ ”

Raymond tugged at her waist, spinning her round, and, with a final glance into her sapphires, their lips met in a searing kiss. Liz wound her hands up his chest and encircled her arms around his neck, binding herself to him. His own glided up her back, reaching for the zipper of her dress and pulled it down. His fingertips followed up the hem, grazing her skin and making her shiver until he found her shoulders. She released him, letting him slip the scarlet fabric from her body and it cascaded to the floor. 

As their mouths vied for each other, Liz started to unbutton his shirt. He took over as she untucked it from his dress pants and he whipped off his jacket. She brushed the bright, white cotton from his shoulders and pulled at his undershirt. They broke apart as she lifted his tee over him and threw it to the ground. Taking her face in his hands, he pulled her back to him as she gasped for breath. Their open mouths met and she moaned, uncontrollably, as she tasted him. His fire poured into her sweet spring as his tongue fought against hers. The sensation burned through her veins and lit her core. 

Liz pulled at his fly but he reached down, holding her hand to stop her. 

“Wait.”

“ _What?!_ ” Liz panted.

“I’ll do that.” he told her. 

He kissed her again and pushed her backwards to lay her on the bed. Liz took the chance to feel him, running her hands over his strong chest, his dusting of fine hair tickling her palms. Her hands held onto his neck as she fell onto the sheets. He pulled away and stood over her as he undressed, kicking off his shoes and lowering his dress pants. She couldn’t see him yet. She just lay in lust and lifted her foot against his thorax, stopping him in his tracks, with her silver heels still strapped to her feet. She didn’t need to ask. Reversing the ritual he had performed just hours earlier, he began unbuckling her and the expensive shoes clattered to the floor. 

Taking her in each of his hands, he pressed and kneaded his thumbs into her soles. Liz writhed weightlessly on the bed, burying her face into the linen, as he caressed her. Then, she felt his cheek follow up her calf, drinking her in as he reached her knee and kissed the inside of her leg. She looked up at him as he now knelt on the bed and slid his hands down her thighs. Hooking the straps of her lingerie, she lifted up as he stripped her bare. They were now completely exposed and Liz shifted further up the bed. He pursued her, stalking her like the wolf he was in her fantasy, and Liz ran out of room as she met the headboard. Trapped, he crawled between her legs and hovering over her abdomen. Lowering himself, he trailed kisses up her body and nibbled hungrily at her sides. 

Liz revelled in every nip and touch, the feelings she had only wished for in her dreams, and she ran her hand over his shorn, graying hair as sparks danced under her skin. Pulling at him, he obeyed and climbed over her until they were face-to-face. 

Looking into his eyes, like the ocean against the sky, she saw his facade break away as they finally settled flesh-to-flesh. His intensity dissipated and there he was, again; the man behind the danger, seeking her permission. Her body trembled and pulsed, feeling him above her. She gave a gentle nod. She was ready. 

Raymond descended onto her lips, receiving her. His mouth stilled her and, with a lasting kiss, he shifted his weight and entered her. 

Their lips broke against each as they gasped and traded breath. He waited for her in the shallows, letting her feel him before slowly sinking deeper. Her back arched and breath hitched as he reached her depths and they became one. 

A sound escaped his throat that Liz did not expect. It wasn’t deep or guttural but soft and vulnerable. Being inside her, giving himself to her, rendered him powerless and Liz held him there, touching him with tender kisses. He peppered his own along her jaw before falling into her neck. 

Liz clutched at his back, voicelessly imploring him to love her and he began to move. 

Retreating and lapping against her, he rolled over her like a wave. Bracing himself over her, he watched as he gave her unrelenting pleasure. 

Liz struggled for air, losing control of her senses and moaned in ecstasy. Holding onto him, she lifted her legs and hugged his sides. Raymond answered with a passionate groan, feeling her skin against his, and he sampled her lips again. 

She whimpered into his mouth and clawed at him, telling him to go faster. 

Then, with laboured breath, he began to slow down. Liz panicked, fearing her satisfaction would slip away.

“ _Don’t stop!_ ” she pleaded.

Raymond slowly shook his head. His eyes now blazed with an ominous hunger. He drew back and angled himself into her. 

Suddenly, her core exploded, washing ripples of heat through her whole body. Her eyes widened and she let out an unconstrained gasp.

“ _Ah...there you are._ ” Raymond hissed as he unlocked her. He moved inside her, again, and didn’t stop. 

Liz was set alight. His patient thrusts rocked her back and forth against the sheets. She wrapped her legs around him as she felt the pressure building and mewled brokedly beneath him. 

Now painted in a layer of sweat, they climbed higher and higher, perched on the edge of a cliff. 

“ _Lizzy._ ” Raymond breathed. “ _Lizzy, look at me._ ”

She looked up at him, showing him what he wanted to see; her sapphire eyes burning in the throes of passion. His face strained as he waited for her. 

With her last ragged breath, she cried out, “... _RED!_ ”

He, desperately, curled his hand under her and lifted her up into his arms. She threw her own around him as he slipped deep inside her. She clung to him and he buried his face against her chest. Liz’s euphoric screams echoed around them, making Red moan into her, and together they achieved final and rapturous release. 

As her body relaxed, a flash of light lit behind her eyes and she leaned back, soaring through the waves of pleasure. He caught her and Red pressed a kiss to her heart, bringing her back to him. Their chests heaved for breath and she looked into his eyes which were now dark with the desire he wanted. They drew her in and she sealed her kiss against him. 

Gravity took them and he set her back on the bed, holding onto her lips as long as he could. Pressing his forehead against hers, he took her side atop the sheets, leaving kisses on her shoulder as he went, and resting his head on the pillow. As they gathered themselves, their legs still entwined, he traced the tips of his fingers along her collarbone and drew aimlessly on the wet canvas of her skin. 

Liz turned to him. His eyes stared into a blissful distance. She leaned over and reached out with a kiss. Their lips speaking for them as they flattered each other. 

In the calm, Liz murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

“Of course.”

She lifted from their bed, his hand following her, and staggered out of the room. 

*

After relieving herself, Liz gripped the edges of the sink as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her waves of hair were now wild and untamed. Her lips, raw and swollen. As she began patting herself down with a soft towel, she reflected on what she had just done. Giving herself to a man, taking this charming stranger, who treated her like she was the centre of his world. She never imagined she would ever be so wanted and, despite being nude and unravelled, she smiled. Never before had she felt so beautiful. 

He awaited her. Liz left the bathroom and returned to him. Sauntering back into the bedroom, she found him lying still. His hands relaxed on his chest, looking upwards to the canopy of the four poster. Catching her in his peripheral, he snapped out of his daze and viewed her. 

“Stop.” 

Liz halted just as her feet stepped onto the cloudy softness of the shag rug. “What?”

Red looked her up and down, breathing in every inch of her, as he shook his head incomprehensibly. “I just wanted to see you.”

She blushed and crawled up onto the bed. He collected her hip in his hand as she straddled and supported herself over him. Red reached up and tucked her falling hair behind her ear, replacing his hand upon her face and stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

Her eyes flickered over his, which were hazy with yearning, and the curls at the corner of his mouth. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he noticed the look on her face.

She gnawed at his hand before answering. “I’m thinking...we just had sex.”

“Mmm...I was hoping you’d remember _that._ ” he rumbled. 

Liz playfully smacked his chest, making him chuckle. Her lips fell onto his, stopping his mouth. “And-we met-three days ago.” she finished between kisses.

He hummed deep in his throat as he captured her over and over. “Why, do you think we should have had it sooner?” he posed, cheekily.

“Shut-up.”

Red laughed as their lips curved into smiles against each other. 

“God, why does this feel so right?” Liz exhaled.

He stopped and opened his eyes. His palms were now caressing her ribcage with his fingertips curving over her back, transferring his warmth to her. “Do you believe in fate?”

Liz cocked her head sideways, questioning his seriousness. He just raised his brow, waiting for an answer. She thought on it. “I don’t know about fate but...I was gonna be a cop, remember? So, I guess, I don’t believe in coincidence.” she grinned.

He squinted up at her, seductively. “I like the sound of that.” 

Taking his face in her hands, she graced him with kisses and he enfolded her in his arms. 

Rolling between the sheets, they wrestled to be as one well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What are you wearing?!” - Several elements including dialogue, Red's tux, Liz's dress/look and their dance are inspired by Madeline Pratt (1x14). Did you spot them all? 
> 
> "I desire you. I write to you. I write for you. All I can say is; I want, I want, I want you." - The words Red leaves in Liz's journal is a quote from a play called, 'Cyrano de Bergerac'. I saw this play (starring James McAvoy) at the start of the year and, aside from being the best piece of theatre I've ever seen, I really love the romanticism of said quote. So, I incorporated it. 
> 
> "He had driven them south of the River Seine to a hideaway, a cavernous little jazz club sculpted under the city." - The jazz club location is inspired by Le Caveau de la Huchette. A real establishment in Paris. 
> 
> “Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is La Vie en Rose.” - The title of this chapter and indeed the song that Red and Liz dance to is 'La Vie en Rose' and Louis Armstrong's rendition of it. You can listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXAN-0fKse0  
> Edith Piaf's original song, translated as "Life in the Pink", speaks of seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses and the experience of falling in love. 
> 
> “I once went mining for sapphires in Kashmir.” - The Red-esque story of Red's venture to mine sapphires is all factual. Kashmir is in fact the most well-known sapphire deposit in the world and the unique gems there are described as 'Blue Velvet'.
> 
> "The deep horn of a bold brass instrument blew from the stage, intertwining with the strings, filling the room with a lustrous air. The slow and vigorous sound brought the lights down, again." - Several elements in this chapter are inspired by the film adaptation of 'Delta of Venus', the Anaïs Nin book that Liz reads in the story (and that influenced this fic). Including the second piece of music that Red and Liz dance to (unfortunately I don't have a link for you as the soundtrack was never independently released), the theme of the lights dimming in the club, and way Red seduces Liz in the final scene. 
> 
> "It wasn’t a long drive to Île de la Cité, an island on the river in the centre of Paris." - Another real location in Paris, of course. Red's apartment is located in Place Dauphine, a square on the north-western point of the island. It's interior is, however, completely my own headcanon.


End file.
